Castle of Secrets Read Free Page A

.
    ‘There’s
things said about his lordship in the village. Stuff and nonsense, it is, all
of it, but girls will be girls, and if they’re not hearing noises, they’re
seeing things out of the corner of their eyes. Their fathers didn’t like it,
either, having their daughters here without a housekeeper. Always thinking
something’s going on, are people in a village.’
    From Mrs
Beal’s demeanour, it was clear that she did not think there was anything going
on, and remembering Lord Torkrow’s cold manner, Helena could not imagine it, either.
    ‘Of course, it
was different in the old days, when his lordship’s father was alive. Then the
castle was full of servants: footmen, maids, valets, page boys, kitchen maids,
hall boys . . . ’ She looked around the table as if seeing it surrounded by
servants. ‘Jolly it was, at mealtimes. It’s much quieter now.’
    ‘Did his
lordship dismiss the servants?’ asked Helena .
    ‘Ah, well,’
said Mrs Beal, suddenly less forthcoming. ‘Things change.’ She got up and went
over to the oven. ‘I’m ready for a bit of something myself,’ she said, as she
took out the pie.
    Helena looked at it longingly.
The crust was a golden brown, and it smelled savoury.
    Mrs Beal was
about to sit down, when she appeared to remember herself and went on: ‘But
perhaps you’d prefer to eat in the housekeeper’s room?’
    Helena looked round. With its
cheery fire and its air of wholesomeness, the kitchen was an inviting place.
Besides, she hoped to learn something of use.
    ‘No, I would
far rather eat here with you.’
    ‘It’s nice to
have a bit of company,’ said Mrs Beal comfortably.
    ‘Did the last
housekeeper eat with you?’ asked Helena, reminding herself that she was not
meant to have known Mrs Carlisle, and that she must speak of her aunt only in
the most general terms.
    ‘Sometimes.
She liked to take her breakfast in the kitchen with me,’ said Mrs Beal, cutting
the pie and putting a generous slice onto Helena ’s plate. Steam rose from it, and
gravy ran round the plate, whilst large chunks of beef fell out of the pastry
casing, with pieces of carrots and turnips.
    ‘It must have
been difficult for you since Mrs Carlisle left,’ she said, sitting opposite Mrs
Beal and taking up her fork.
    ‘I won’t deny
it,’ said the cook. ‘I’ve had to do all the ordering and planning myself. Not
that I didn’t do a lot when Mrs Carlisle was here, but we shared it, and it was
always useful to have someone to ask about the menus.’
    ‘She left in a
hurry, I understand,’ said Helena , as she put a mouthful of the pie into her mouth. The pastry
was light and feathery, and the meat was tender. She felt her spirits rise, for
Mrs Beal was a very good cook.
    ‘Yes, poor
lady. It was her sister. She was taken ill. What could Mrs Carlisle do but go
and look after her? One night she was drinking chocolate by the fire with me,
the next morning she’d left the castle.’
    ‘She left
overnight?’ asked Helena ,
putting her fork down in surprise.
    ‘It was on
account of the letter that came,’ said Mrs Beal as she, too ate her meal.
    ‘A letter came
late at night?’ queried Helena .
    Mrs Beal
looked surprised. ‘That does seem odd, now you mention it. It must have come
earlier in the day, of course, but likely she didn’t have time to read it.
There’s always a lot of work in the castle, and she was kept busy.’
    ‘It must have
been a comfort for her to be able to talk to you about it,’ said Helena .
    Mrs Beal shook
her head. ‘She never mentioned it to me. I would have comforted her if I could
have done, but I never saw her. She left before daybreak. It was his lordship
that told me about it.’
    Helena found the story more and
more disturbing.
    ‘She must have
had a long walk over the moor. It can’t have been pleasant for her in the dark.
I hope she didn’t miss her way,’ she said, hoping to lead Mrs Beal to say more.
    ‘His lordship
ordered the carriage for